In which your arch-enemy suddenly talks to you and BAM instant love
by hey-bring-me-some-pie
Summary: Draco is forced to stay at Hogwarts over the summer on account of his father and mother are both in Azkaban. Harry is staying too, because reasons. And then they decide to act like actual men instead of pubescent, testosterone-fueled childish boys.
1. Chapter 1

So i've recently been in a sort of writer's depression bubble recently. My writing is not as good as I'd like it to be. But whatever. I decided to stop brooding and post this anyways, even though I find it a bit (a lot) unrealistic. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I'd realized I forgot about this in my other two fics. Oops. Well. I own nothing.

Also, sorry about the title because i'm stupid and not original or creative or shit and its midnight and I couldn't be bothered with a clever, witty title that ties everything together with a nice little bow like on a Christmas present. Actually, I was tempted to title it "FUCK YOU" but decided not to because of reasons. I'm sorry for showing my true snarky self. I'll go back to peppy and full of unicorns that fart sparkles and shit rainbows.

When I look at this tomorrow when i'm not tired as fuck, i'll regret this, I just know it.

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I stared at Professor Dumbledore's face. He couldn't possibly be serious. When my father was put into Azkaban, I didn't bat an eye. That bastard had it coming. But I was rather close to my mother. We'd spend endless nights huddled in my bedroom, listening to my father's violent rants. She'd whisper encouraging words to me, and slip me sweets after my father smacked me across the face. I loved my mother. She deserved a loving husband, and weekend trips to Finland resorts. Sparkling wine and red cocktail dresses.

So why was the Headmaster telling me she was put in Azkaban?

A trail of wetness trailed down my face, and I realized I was crying. I swiped furiously at my eyes with the back of my hand. My mother couldn't be in that dastardly place. She just couldn't.

Not fair, not fair,_ not fair_.

I stood up, grabbed my things, and rushed out of the Professor's office. I stormed to the Slytherin common room, angry and upset. I ran into an unfortunately pimply first year, who squawked indignantly. I turned and glared at him, and he ran away, frightened. Huffing, I stomped to my private chambers, heading directly to the lavatory.

I studied my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My cheeks were unnaturally pink and my hair was ruffled. My grey eyes were bright with another batch of tears that this time I refused to shed. The longer I stared at my image, the more I thought of my mother and my father. My breath came faster. I struggled not to lose control.

_It's alright to let go, Sweetie. Crying makes you human, as do making mistakes, never mind what your father says. I'm here for you, Draco. You can cry, and tell me all about it._

My mother's words came back to me, and I took a deep breath through my nose. I locked the door, slid down on the cold tile floor, and cried. I wrapped my arms around my thighs and rested my face on my knees. When my eyes could cry no more, I leaned my head against the bathroom wall, and fell into a troubled sleep.

I woke the next morning, my eyes still slightly puffy. I tried to cover it up with some of Pansy's makeup, but I was never very good at it, and it ended up looked worse. I walked out to the Great Hall with her. She sent me looks. Finally, as we sat ourselves at our usual spot on the benches, I turned to her.

"Would you stop giving me that look? It makes me feel like I'm a kicked puppy in a muddy ditch." I glared at her. She shrugged.

"I know there's something wrong, Draco, and you can't blame me for being concerned." She grabbed an apple and handed to me.

"At least eat this. Please?" She gave me those adorable owl eyes and I bit into the apple. She smiled.

"Now, I've got to scamper off, but make sure you eat the whole apple_-don't give me that look, I'll know exactly how much you ate and you better be sure to eat it all or else-_and don't forget to get to Potions on time!" I rolled my eyes. I loved her to death, but she worried too much.

I walked to Potions slowly, dreading the sharp eyes of Professor Snape. He knows absolutely everything. He's just so bloody brilliant at legilimency. I thought about ditching Potions all together, but decided my grades were more important at this point. I'll show that Granger bitch how its done.

I arrived exactly 3 seconds before the bell rang. Sitting straight in my seat, I cast my down, as Professor Snape stalked down the aisle to the front of the class.

"You will find the ingredients on page 493 in your books-" Our books flipped open. "-and instructions-" He tapped the board with his wand, and words scrawled across it. "-are on the board. There will be no talking in this class." His eyes glittered and he swept to his desk.

I looked down at my book. Methodically, I cut ginger root and crushed beetles and chopped leeches. I stirred clockwise and added some minced lizard tails. When did Potions become so easy for me? Oh yeah. Since _forever._

A shout came from the Gryffindor side of the room, because, of course, the Slytherins and Gryffindors could _never_ sit on the same side of the classroom. Potter was clutching Neville, who was drenched in a bright orange liquid, which I guessed was supposed to be the potion we were making. Except the potion was supposed to be a soft blue color.

Well, shit.

I scrambled through my-ahem-_elite_ potions supplies, found what I needed, and sprang across the room. Neville looked at me with wide eyes and I fought not to roll my eyes. Instead, I shoved a beezor down the stupid git's mouth. Much to Potter's relief, Neville started to breathe again, and he frantically helped him wipe the potion off.

I stood there. I didn't know what to do. Should I just stand here? Go back to my seat? I stood rooted to the dungeon floor, unsure. Finally, as Potter wiped the last of the slime off Longbottom's arm, I slinked back to my seat. The Slytherins were stunned. They didn't show it, but I grew up in a house full of them. By the slight curl of their upper lip, it was easy to tell that they were shocked. I ignored them and prayed this class would end soon.

As soon as the bell rang, I sprang out of my seat and almost bolted out of the room. My true Malfoy upbring, however, kept me from doing so. Instead, I sauntered out haughtily, if faster than usual. I reached the corner of the corridor when I heard pounding footfalls and a hand appeared on my shoulder.

"What?" I spat moodily. Harry Potter blinked at me.

"I only wanted to thank you for saving Neville; I didn't have time in class. But I suppose I won't bother." I sneered at him as he turned and walked away, but inside I squirmed.

"Wait-Potter!" I shouted after him. He turned around, disbelief etched on his pretty face. Unbelievably, my mouth dried up, something that hadn't happened before. I cleared my throat and cast my mind around for a reason to call him back.

"Uh...who do you think will win the Quidditch match next thursday?" I asked lamely. Potter crossed his arms over his chest. A nice, firm chest, toned from all the Quidditch practice, I'd guess.

Potter called my name, and I blinked at him. Oh. Right.

"Uh, what was that you said?" I asked a bit sheepishly. He studied me for a moment before answering.

"I said that Hufflepuff has a great keeper, and their chasers are really shaping up. But Ravenclaw is bound to win. I mean, look at their beaters! And Cho is an excellent Seeker. I doubt she'd win against Gryffindor...or Slytherin, actually. But definitely against Hufflepuff." He finished. I nodded.

"Exactly what I thought. If they got a better beater-that boy is going nowhere-then they might stand a chance." I started walking to the Great Hall. Potter followed, still looking a bit wary. He fell into step beside me.

"So, if you don't mind, can I ask you a question?" he glanced at me. I shrugged. He looked back down at the ground.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" he asked. His unruly black hair fell into his face, skimming the tops of his eyes. I squelched an urge to brush it away.  
"Are you staying at Hogwarts over the summer?" I blurted out, instead of answering his question. Honestly, I wasn't sure if I could answer it. Professor Dumbledore had hinted that I wasn't the only person staying. Potter stopped, and turned towards me.

"So what if I am? Are you going to make some more jokes about how I have nowhere to go?" He challenged, his hands balling into fists. I stepped back.

"Actually, no, I wasn't." I paused. "Because I'm staying too." I finished quietly. Potter's demeanor changed, his hands now hanging limply at his sides. His face had a look of surprise, and sadness, and a little bit of longing. I turned away and walked to the common room, leaving him standing outside the Great Hall.

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Boo, cliffhanger (sort of). Sorry. Next chapter'll be posted tomorrow. Review please! Criticsm is welcome. Flames will be secretely cried over in the confines of my bedroom/fandom shrine.

...kidding.


	2. Chapter 2

Here it is, just as promised.

Disclaimer: not mine.

..Enjoy. Go crazy.

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School past by fast, tests were finished, and people started packing. Finally, it was the last day of school. Today, people were loading on the train, heading home.

I stood leaning on the window frame in the astronomy tower. I watched from the window; people streamed down the paths to the horseless carriages that would take them to the Hogwarts Express. Among them, I saw Pansy walking daintily along with Blaise and Nott. Crabbe and Goyle had dropped out last year, working for Voldemort as full time deatheaters.

A cough behind me interrupted my thoughts. I kept my gaze on the window.

"Potter," I said to the glass.

"Harry," he corrected me. His voice sounded closer than I anticipated.

"So we're on first name basis?" I looked at him. He looked away, turning to look at the people down below instead.

"I would like to be. Draco." He risked a glance at me. I grinned at him.

"First name basis it is. So, _Harry_, how are you on this lovely day?" He made a face at me. Right. Not so well.

"I can think of something to make our day better." I said. Harry's head shot up fast and he stared at me, his eyes wide.

"I _meant_ we go to Hogsmeade." I flushed.

"Oh. Alright then." He forced a smile.

"Look, Harry. You don't have to go if you don't want to." I said defensively. He shook his head.

"No! It's just-there are too many memories in Hogsmeade." He avoided looked out the window. The Gryffindor's were passing by, laughing and goofing off.

I walked towards the stairs and called out to Harry over my shoulder.

"Come on, I have an idea." He followed me, curious. We walked through the castle to the gargoyle stairs that would take us to Dumbledore's office.

"Peppermint humbug." I said, making a face. Harry laughed. It was a rich, happy sound. It was the sort of laugh you'd expect from a little kid on a bright, sunny day. I liked it.

"The stone gargoyle leapt aside, allowing us to climb the stairs to the Headmaster's office. We paused outside the heavy antique door. Loud, angry voices echoed from the office. Harry put a finger to his lips and motioned for us to listen in. I raised my wand and murmured a spell. Snape's voice came through crystal clear.

"-will never work! You must tell him, Albus. You can't leave him on his own! I won't let you." He said, furious.

"Come, Severus. Let him have one more summer of ignorance." Dumbledore's voice was pleading.

"Fine. But you had better tell him, the moment the summer ends. Or else I shall." We heard footsteps coming towards us, and we panicked, scrambling to find a hiding spot. We ended up standing helplessly in the center of the hall. The grand door opened, and out Snape came. If looks could kill, then we'd be dead. He glared at us, and I could have sworn his eyes had a flicker of sadness when he glanced at Harry. But then he glided down the stairs and was out of sight.

Dumbledore appeared in the doorway.

"Come in, Harry. Oh, and Mr. Malfoy. Are you two having a spat I should know about?" He sounded exasperated, but his eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. We stepped inside.

"Uh, no. Actually, Professor, I wanted to know if Harry and I could go somewhere." I said. The Headmaster raised his eyebrows.

"You mean to Hogsmeade?"

"No. I want to take Harry to my manor." I said, somewhat nervously. "I just want to pick up a few things, show Harry around...and we're really bored and I promise we'll be really careful and we wouldn't be there all day and-" I babbled.

"And I can arrange a portkey for you and Harry. Is an hour or two sufficient enough?" I nodded mutely.

We jerked to a stop in front of the gates. Tall, formidable, and spiked at the top, you usually needed to be buzzed in. I produced a key, clicked it in, and spoke.

"Alohomora." I said, and the gates swung open.

I strolled along the narrow path to the front door of Malfoy Manor. When I didn't hear any footsteps behind me, I turned.

"Harry?" I called out. "Are you coming?" He stared around him, his eyes wide.

"This is your _house_?" He asked, his voice filled with awe.

"Er...yeah." I squirmed. It was uncomfortable seeing Harry full of wonder...for my house. For the place I'd grown up all my life. The home that I, just now realizing, took for granted. And all those times I teased him about not having a place to go...I winced.

We reached the front door, and I unlocked it. I flung open the door, motioning for Harry to go first. To the right was a foyer, with a closet for our shoes and cloaks. Next to it, a large, grand staircase swept up to the second floor. If we kept walking, we'd enter the living room, and from there, the kitchen. The dining hall branched off to our left. I gave Harry a brief tour of the first floor, then the second.

The second floor consists of two wings: my parents bedroom and what used to be my bedroom in one wing, and the servant's quarters, with their own narrow staircase, in the other. We stepped down the servants' staircase, and exited out a door at the staircase's base. An elaborate stone pathway cut through the long, spindly grass. A stone cottage, I suppose you'd call it, stood at the far end of the yard, a few feet away from the edge of the forest. and herb garden resided on the other side of the little house, full of rosemary and thyme and oregano.

We stopped before the door, a simple wood door with a shiny brass knob. Suddenly, I was nervous, about to show Harry my room-slash-house. Something that was all mine. I swallowed my nervousness down, and opened the door. We walked inside. The entire bottom floor was like a cozy sitting room, with a fireplace in the wall on our left, surrounded by a small couch and an armchair. The wall straight ahead, next to the armchair, was floor to ceiling glass. The wall on the right was all bookshelves, filled with so many books that some stacked on the floor in front of them. The other walls were made of stone. To our left, before the fireplace, was a spiral staircase. After a quick peek of the bottom floor, we headed up the stairs.

I trailed my hand over the railing, gesturing when we reached the top of the stairs. I kept my gaze on Harry's face as he looked around my room. Despite past appearances, I really do care what he thinks. He walked around, stopping here and there for a closer inspection. Finally, he stood in the center of the room and looked up at me.

"Well, what do you think?" I almost dreaded the answer. He looked around, then beamed at me.

"It's bloody brilliant!" he exclaimed. I couldn't help it; I grinned back at him.

As I haphazardly packed, Harry continued to walk around and inspect my room, looking at every detail. I glanced at him through the corner of my eye a couple times; he seemed intrigued by my belongings.

The room grew increasingly hot, most likely because of the noon-high sun. I refused to believe it was caused by our close proximity. Without thinking, I rolled up the sleeves of my crisp, white, button up shirt to my elbows. When Harry wandered over to watch me pack various silk shirts and trousers, I heard him inhale sharply. Glancing over, his hand was extended out as if to graze my forearm, but he didn't quite touch it.

My forearm.

My Dark Mark.

I yanked my sleeve down quickly, afraid that Harry would explode with anger. Turning away slightly, I fingered the cuff of my sleeve, a sign of nervousness and anxiety. The tension built up as the silence grew. Finally, Harry broke it, although the tension stayed.

"We should hurry. Dumbledore will worry if we miss the portkey." he said quietly. I nodded, avoiding his gaze. I zipped up my suitcase, and slung my bag over my shoulder.

Right, yes, got everything, I think...

"Alright, let's go." I headed towards my door without looking at Harry. His voice stopped me just as I reached out for the handle.

"I don't want to pry," he said hesitantly, "but...don't you want to bring this?" he held up the picture I kept of me, my mother, and my father. My father stood behind us, his face a cold mask of indifference. In contrast, my mother sat, her arms wrapped around me, as I sat in her lap. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled softly. I was a beaming, rosy-cheeked child. It was just before my father brought us into the circle of the Dark Lord's deatheaters. At the time, and every day after that, I was scared, frightened of my father and the things he did.

The things he'd eventually make me do.

I took the photo from Harry's outstretched hand and smashed it against the wall. Harry flinched, staring at me with guilt. From the remains of the broken glass frame, I took the picture, tearing it neatly in half. I put the half containing me and my mother carefully in my pocket, leaving the other on top of the glittering mess.

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There you have it. Reviews make me feel like i'm made of glitter and sprinkles.

Next chap should be posted tomorrow (because it's mostly already written. So don't get your hopes up for the rest of the chapters being posted daily. Sorry.)


	3. Chapter 3

Oh my gosh look I updated.

I'm also working on another fic. It is also Drarry (do you see a recurring pattern here? I do.) But this story will come first, yadda yadda.

Anyways, enjoy. (And review okay thanks)

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We still had about 20 minutes until the portkey (a soggy, chewed up tennis ball) activated, so we walked around the Manor Grounds. After a while of shuffling around on the stone paths, I gestured towards a marble seat a foot away. We sat, side by side, but not touching.

I spoke, after a moment of awkward silence.

"Harry, i'm sorry about the Dark Mark. I didn't want to get it, I swear. I don't want anything to do with -_ V-voldemort_," I spat his name out, "But I understand if you never want to talk to me again." I look to the ground, ashamed.

"If you didn't want it, then why did you get it?" Harry asked. He didn't sound angry, just curious.

"My father." I said shortly.

"...oh." he paused. "Did it...hurt?" I glanced at him.

"Why? Thinking of joining Voldemort?" This time the name slipped out easily. I wondered what my father would have thought about me saying the Dark Lord's name.

He laughed that rich laugh of his, breaking the tension. I nudged his shoulder with mine, grinning.

"I'm serious!" He protested. He reached up to pat my hair, pulling on the tip of a strand that fell in my eyes. I cross my eyes at him and stuck out my tongue. Chuckling again, he folded his hands in his lap and composed his face into a serious expression.

"Really. Did it? Hurt, I mean." He asked me.

"Well, I mean, yeah," I asked uncomfortably. "It hurts when a cow gets branded, doesn't it?" Harry was silent.

"I'm sorry. That isn't what you wanted to hear," I said quickly.

Shaking his head, "No, that's...actually the most honest anyone has been with me, for a long time. Its quite refreshing." He smiled crookedly at me.

"People lie to you?" I asked incredulously. Harry Potter, the Golden Boy, the Savior, was lied to? The concept was laughable.

"Well they don't lie, exactly, but nobody ever tells me the complete truth," he squirmed.

"How so?" Curious, I glanced at him. He picked at his shirt.

"Oh let me count the ways." His voice dripped with light sarcasm. "Well, I didn't know I was a wizard until I was eleven - same with my parents' death. I thought they died in a car crash until Hagrid told me what really happened. Second year," he continued, "I learned about Tom Riddle, and that I was a parselmouth. Third year was when I learned of my dad's best mates, and my godfather, Sirius Black." He stopped there sheepishly. "There's more, but I think we're going to miss our portkey."

The portkey dropped us off at a little muggle/wizard town. When I was little, before the Voldemort business, it was my favourite place to visit. In the center of the village, there was a main square, where Harry and I were.

"Come on." I said briskly, walking towards one of the shops surrounding the square. Harry looked bemused, but followed, matching my stride.

"This isn't Hogsmeade." He stated casually. I snorted.

"No, it isn't. I thought i'd surprise you, since I know you aren't yearning to go back to Hogwarts just yet." I stopped in front of The Sugar and Spice Cafe. There were only a few people there, and we headed inside, slipping into a booth. A plump, greying waitress came over, beaming at me.

"Ah, my little angel, I was wondering when i'd see you again." She smiled sadly at me.

"I'm sorry, Maria, i've been away, traveling. We were in the neighborhood, and I had to visit one last time. Maria, this is Harry, my friend, and Harry, this is my guardian angel, Maria. Maria was here when I came to the cafe when I was young; I used to come quite a lot, whenever I felt...lonely." I finished quickly. Suddenly I felt like I said too much. Harry probably doesn't care about any of this, what my life is like.

Maria smiled at Harry kindly, who gave her that charming, toothy grin that melted everyone's heart. I mean, most people's hearts. Certainly not mine. You're the one who called him your friend, in front of Maria. I shook my head.

Maria swiped her order book and pen from her back pocket.

"What'll it be? On the house." She said, looking at me.

"Oh, no, we'll pay. You don't get much business as it is." I glanced at Harry, who seemed lost. "Give us both hot chocolate, the special kind." I winked at her, and she beamed back, tucking her pen behind her ear and strolling off. Harry looked around the small restaurant.

"What is this place?" He asked.

"Its...The Sweet and Spice Cafe." I shifted in my seat. Harry's hands rested on the table, fidgeting. I placed mine on top of his briefly, stilling his movements. He froze, tilting his head a bit to look at me.

"Would you stop that? Relax, okay?" I said as I withdrew my hands, instead placing them in my lap. A blush threatened to spread across my cheeks, but I held it back. Harry however, turned pink.

"No, I mean, what's it to you? You mentioned you've been here before? And you know Maria, from a while back, it seems." I sighed, leaning to rest against the back of the booth. Why does he want to know? Is he like this with his friends? But doesn't he consider me a friend now, too? I ran my hand through my hair.

"Hey, you don't have to tell me your whole life story or anything." He smiled at me through his messy black hair. I gave a little smile of my own.

"Where to begin? I was a little boy when my father joined the Deatheaters. He wasn't always like that, you know; Cowardly and desperate to please. He used to be indifferent to me, not demanding, but not loving either. My mother told me that at one time he did. Love me, that is, and her. But I never saw that side of him.

"When my father joined Voldemort's ranks, he started to act as though he was better than me, and my mother. He brought the Deatheaters home for dinner, and they were all rowdy and leered at me. I was a child, and scared of my father and his friends. As I grew older, I understood the situation and came to realize what my father planned for me. I was to join Voldemort, to live in fear of disappointing him and my father."

"The day came when my father decided I was ready to join them. I tried to run, but my father cast the imperius curse on me, halting my tracks. He guided me through the ceremony, but there was still a part of me that knew what was going on, and desperately tried to escape. I couldn't. And so, when I was chained to the chair, my father lifted the curse with a final warning to stay silent. Fenrir, you know him, grabbed the banding iron and pressed it against my skin.

"I won't share with you the gory details, but It hurt, more than anything. All I could think about was the pain. I know that Voldemort cast the spell on the mark to make it what it is, but I can't recall him doing so.

"And this place?" I gestured around the cafe and shrugged. "It's the place I go to when I don't want to see my father. A place to get away to."

I finally looked at Harry. He stared at me with those bright green eyes of his. It made me shift uncomfortably.

"What?" I said self-consciously. He shook his head.

"That...That was the most awful thing i've ever heard." His eyes were wide and made me want to see what they looked like without his round glasses. I shrugged.

"It is what it is. Anyways," Maria was heading to our table, a steaming mug in both hands. "wait until you try this." Harry took the mug, curling his hands over the curved sides. He blew on it before taking a small, cautious sip. His eyes widened.

"This is fantastic!" He drank a large gulp and closed his eyes as he swallowed.

"Told you so." I smirked and raised the cup to my mouth, savouring the rich, sweet taste. A bell rang, signaling a customer coming in. He was a big man, with a large beard covering half his face. Even so, I recognized his portly stomach and cold black eyes.

"Oh shit." I said under my breath. Harry, close enough to hear, looked up.

"What is it?" He said quietly. "The man that just walked in?" I inclined my head.

"He used to work for my father. Before, you know." Harry nodded. "And, well, he hates me, lets put it at that."

"How much time before the portkey activates again?" I looked at the clock above the bathroom door.

"About 14 minutes. But we can't just disappear. The muggles."

"Well, we'll just...wait it out, and head for the exit just before it goes off. And even if he does follow us, the portkey will go and he won't even touch us." Harry grinned.

We chatted about anything; quidditch, sweets, wine, Zonko's. Harry even explained something called a "Telly" which I still thought was a bit weird. Finally, 13 minutes had past. I looked at Harry, still talking about different channels.

"Hey." I interrupted him. "Its 13 minutes. Should we go?" He glanced at the clock, then the man's table.

"Alright. Lets go." We stood up, tossing a few bills of muggle money on the table. As soon as we got up, the man - what was his name? I can't remember - scraped his chair back. I narrowed my eyes. Nudging Harry, I whispered to him as we walked to the door.

"He hasn't gotten his food yet, and he's leaving. He knows i'm here." Harry didn't answer, only sped up.

We reached the door just as I felt a hand on my arm.

"Excuse me, do I know you?" I asked him. A couple was looking at us curiously. "You're attracting attention." I said under my breath. He nodded. "Then let's take this outside." He sneered at Harry, not seeing his scar.

With his hand wrapped firmly around my forearm, we exited the shop and went into the alley behind it.

"Now you listen to - " He started, but got cut off when Harry kicked him had in the crotch. His hand, however stayed attached to my arm. I tugged sharply twice, successfully freeing myself.

"Harry the portkey!" I cried. He jumped over the large man, who swiped at his ankle, tripping him. He fell into me, our bodies touching. The portkey pulled before we touched the ground. We were brought to the edge of Hogsmeade, landing in a expanse of soft grass.

"Ooph." I landed on my back, with Harry's head just above my stomach. "You're crushing me, you prat." He laughed and rolled over, lying next to me on his back. "That was fun."

"Fun? You call that fun? That was a situation I would not like to find myself in." I wasn't sure if we were talking about Harry on top of me, or almost fighting with that man.

"Oh, I found the situation very nice." He winked at me. I'm sure my face resembled a fish out of water.

"Why am I not surprised you're bent?" I drawled. I was delighted that I could throw back a witty comment.

"And you aren't?" Harry raised an eyebrow at me. I sat up, indignant.

"I am_ not_ a bloody pouf!" I scowled. He snickered, much to my displeasure.

"Your face says differently. Don't worry, I won't tell your precious Slytherins. But you can at least admit it to me." I opened and closed my mouth. What was I supposed to say to that?

"What do you mean, my face?" I decided that was safe enough.

He didn't answer, but put his hand on my knee. "What are you doing?" My voice, at least, was steady. He slid it up to rest mid-thigh. I swallowed. Harry scooted closer to me, his other hand turning my chin so our eyes met. Leaning in, his mouth was so close to mine. The hand on my leg crept higher, landing just below where my leg and hip joined. My throat was suddenly dry.

"See? I knew you liked boys." My eyes widened at his words. I pushed him off angrily, standing up.

"I don't know what your problem is, but I am not a shirt-lifter, okay? I'm not gay, so stop - stop - making _advances_ towards me. _They aren't appreciated!_" I stalked away, leaving Harry staring after me.

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Ta-da! Okay, I don't know when i'll update the next chapter, because I'm moving in a week and we still have_ loads_ to do. I'll try to get up early to write, but no promises. Okay? Okay.

Review and I'll send you a cookie. Or if you watch Supernatural, some pieee. (I love me some pie)

Bye now


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